


Six Weeks

by unitchiefprentiss



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 16:51:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13171131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unitchiefprentiss/pseuds/unitchiefprentiss
Summary: A look at Emily's six weeks of leave between 13.01 and 13.02.





	Six Weeks

Week one

For the third night in a row, Emily wakes with a scream in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, gasping for air and unaware of her surroundings for just a moment. She’s back in that disgusting, dingy room with Peter Lewis. No, no. She’s not there anymore. She gasps for breath and grounds herself by sitting up in bed and placing her palms flat on the bed underneath her. She closes her eyes and forces herself to take slow, deep breaths.

When she can breathe again, she opens her eyes and is surprised to feel tears rolling down her face. She wipes at them harshly, she tells herself she’s fine. She knows she isn’t, but she’s always been stubborn.

With a sigh, she gets up and heads down to the kitchen. She won’t be able to fall back asleep. She puts on a kettle for a cup of decaf tea. The director has required that they all talk to the bureau’s psychiatrist, and for the first time in Emily’s career, she agrees. She’s meeting with Doctor Camille Landry in the morning, and for once she feels like she needs this. She needs someone to talk to. She needs to talk about how she was so sure that this time she was going to die, for real, and never see her team--her family, ever again. She needs to tell someone that sometimes she feels the phantom pains in her legs of a dozen rods. The memories from that night well up inside her, a cold shell over her soul. She feels like she’s losing herself, she can’t recognize herself in the mirror most days. She fears that if she doesn’t talk about what happened soon, it will swallow her whole and she will never be able to find Emily again.

She knows she could call any member of the team at any hour, but they’ve been through their own traumas regarding Scratch. She needs to let them heal, just as she needs to heal.

The kettle screams from the stove and makes Emily jump. She reaches for her gun at her hip before remembering that it’s the middle of the night and she’s in pajamas and her gun is locked in the safe by her bed. It takes every ounce of strength she has left to keep her gun locked up instead of on her at all times. She feels safer with it, but she’s aware of the dangers keeping it on her poses. Especially since she just tried to pull her weapon on a tea kettle.

She carefully pours the water into her favorite red mug and steeps the tea slowly. After tossing the tea bag into the trash, she takes the mug over to the couch and sits on the end closest to the window. She pulls the blanket she keeps on the back of the couch around her shoulders and cradles the mug of tea as if the heat will radiate through to her soul and melt the cold shell she feels still spreading.

The city is quiet at this hour, she can’t hear anything through her closed window. She focuses on the street lights visible from where she sits and she counts them slowly, over and over while she breathes the steam from the tea and feels a sense of calm she hasn’t felt in months.

Breathe, just breathe. She reminds herself; repeating it like a mantra until she finally grows tired again and sits the untouched mug of tea on the coffee table, falling asleep on the couch.

Week two

Emily stands in her bathroom, staring at herself through the steam on the mirror. Her hair is damp from showering and she’s only wearing a bra and underwear. Slowly, she reaches out a shaking hand and wipes the steam off the mirror, revealing her reflection clearly. She blinks. Her lips turn upwards, not quite a smile but no longer the tight straight line they had been for weeks.

The bruises on her face have finally faded. They’d been a terrible, swollen mess of black and blue. They faded to purple, and then to an awful shade of yellow. But today, for the first time, the swelling was gone. The bruising was gone. Every trace of Peter Lewis had faded from her body. Her body still had scars and marks that told the story of the life of Emily Prentiss, but that bastard hadn’t managed to give her any permanent marks.

Her eyes trail down, she sees the scar on her breast. She’d gotten the clover removed while she was “dead.” One day in Paris, she couldn’t stand it anymore. She had to get rid of it. She didn’t belong to anyone, and she would be damned if that brand remained on her body forever.

She glances slightly up to her left bicep, where she’d been shot shortly after returning from Paris. Her eyes move farther down to her abdomen, where the three inch scar is. That scar is the ugliest, most noticeable one. It seems to scream at her every time she takes her shirt off.

It took her moving to London for four years for her to be able to wear that scar with pride rather than guilt. She’d died, but she came back. She beat Ian Doyle and she beat death itself. She wonders how long it will be before she can wear the psychological scars Peter Lewis left behind with pride.

She almost wishes he’d paralyzed her instead.

Doctor Landry has been helping. Emily’s been to two sessions, and she’s really trying. She tells the doctor everything. On the first visit she’d talked so quickly that Doctor Landry had had to ask her to slow down.

The psychiatrist diagnoses her with PTSD on the second visit, and Emily’s not surprised. She’d been prescribed some medication to help with her anxiety, but Emily hasn’t gotten them filled yet. She isn’t against medication, she knows it can be a lifesaver; she just wants to try and beat this on her own like she always has.

She texts the groupchat she has with JJ, Garcia, and Tara. They’ve planned to go to lunch the following day. They gush over photos JJ sends of the boys. She can’t believe how big they’ve gotten. She smiles when JJ says she may have to bring them with her to lunch and Garcia threatens her if she doesn’t.

She checks in with Reid, smiling at the photos he sends her back of him and his mom. He also sends back a long winded text about a Russian movie Emily hasn’t seen, but she promises to check it out and talk to him about it later.

She calls Rossi because he will never text her back, no matter how much she tries to explain how much easier it is. He tells her about a new recipe he’s trying to perfect with all his free time.

She texts Luke afterward, and he sends her a picture of Roxy. It makes her smile. She knows there’s something Luke isn’t telling her about what happened on that rooftop with Scratch, but she refuses to press it. She knows he’ll come to her when he’s ready.

The newest member, Matt, is shaken by the case. Not to the degree that the rest of them are, but she knows reading the case files were tough for him. He replies to her text quickly and assures her that he’s well and updates her on his family. She hopes to get to know Matt’s wife and kids better. She loves Henry and Michael so much, she hopes to spread that love to Matt’s children as well. The same way she had to Declan, to Jack, and to Hank.

Lastly, she calls Derek. His voice is warm and caring and familiar, and she misses him greatly. He knows what happened, he’s checked in with everyone. He may no longer be a part of the team, but he’s still a part of their family. She says she’ll talk to Rossi about a dinner party. She wants to get to know Savannah better, and she’s dying to see baby Hank again.

Satisfied that the team is healing in the best ways they can, she pockets her phone. She slips into her running shoes leaves the apartment, locking the door behind her.

It’s nearing summer, but it hasn’t hit peak heat yet. It’s pleasant outside. She walks the four blocks over to the closest park to her apartment. She’d planned on running, but when she gets to the park she finds a bench in the sun and sits there, basking in the warmth. She feels pieces of the cold shell inside her flake off and for a moment, she feels like the old Emily again.

She takes that as a good sign and gets up, deciding to go on a run after all.

Week three

Emily wakes up without an alarm, realizing that it’s the first morning she’s woken up naturally and not because of a nightmare.

She knows they aren’t over, that this is something she will be fighting for many more weeks, months, years even. But a sense of peace washes over her as she throws the covers off of her legs and begins her morning routine. Maybe she’s not broken beyond repair, maybe she can heal. Maybe she can still do this job and move forward.

She can’t remember the last time she had so much time off from work; and she’s beginning to get antsy. She knows going back will be hard, terrifying, even. But she misses the team, she misses the rush and she misses the feeling of making the world a better place.

At her last appointment, Doctor Landry suggests that Emily do something productive that would benefit others; like volunteering. Emily decides to clean out her closet and donate her clothes to the local women’s shelter. She wants to do more, maybe even sign up to counsel other women. But she knows she’s not ready for that yet. She has more healing to do.

Once she’s back home, she cleans the rest of her apartment within an inch of its life. She’s never been a messy person, but she needs something to do with her hands.

She’s reached the point where she’s getting tired of being alone, tired of not working; but she can’t go back yet even if she wanted to. They all had strict instructions to take the six weeks. No exceptions.

She’s done everything Doctor Landry had suggested and recommended. Everything except for talking to Elizabeth.

It’s not that Emily hates her mother, she doesn’t. She never has, even when she should have. She just knows that she’ll never be able to explain exactly what happened with Scratch, because even she still isn’t sure what was real and what wasn’t. Elizabeth Prentiss isn’t one to not have all her questions answered, and Emily knows there are some things she may never be able to answer.

She picks up her phone and scrolls to her mother’s contact. Her finger overs over the call button, but she can’t make herself press it. At that moment, JJ’s name and contact photo light up the screen. She breathes a sigh of relief and answers the phone. She happily accepts JJ’s--actually, Henry’s-- invitation to come over for dinner. She’ll talk to Elizabeth eventually.

Week four

Emily looks at the calendar that hangs over her desk in her home office. It’s been a month since Scratch. It’s been a month since she was in that room, strapped to a bed and fighting for her life. It’s been a month and she still isn’t sure what really happened and what was all in her head.

It’s getting easier, she can feel it. She no longer wakes up screaming every single night. She feels lighter, as if the therapy and healing have taken a weight off her shoulders she didn’t know she was carrying.

It’s time to call Elizabeth, she tells herself. She knows that Doctor Landry is right, that she will never fully heal until she speaks with her mother.

She sighs. She knows Elizabeth’s schedule and knows that mornings are the best time to call. She picks her phone up off the desk, leans back into her office chair, and finally calls Elizabeth.

When she answers, Emily says simply: “Hi, Mom,” and lets Elizabeth complain about how long it’s been since she’s called and express her multiple complaints about Emily’s job. She even lets Elizabeth complain about not being a grandmother without sighing.

“I know, Mom. I know.” Emily says patiently. “Actually I was calling because there something I should have told you a long time ago...no, Mom. I’m not pregnant.” She laughs. She starts out slowly, by explaining about Scratch. She leaves out the worst bits, but explains well enough that Elizabeth knows he was a real threat.

She hears Elizabeth gasp in shock as she explains what happened a month ago, apologizing for not telling her sooner. She doesn’t give details. She doesn’t tell Elizabeth how truly close to death she had come. She thinks Elizabeth is just as sick of her dying as she is herself.

“I just didn’t want you to worry. I also didn’t want to put you on Scratch’s radar. It was better if he thought we weren’t close.”

She’s expecting a lecture, so her eyes widen in surprise when she hears a soft “I understand.” from her mother.

They talk for a bit longer, and Emily accepts Elizabeth’s offer to go to brunch the next morning. She hates that it’s taken them so long to form any kind of relationship, and she knows they’ll never be a typical mother and daughter; but she’s grateful for what she has now.

When she comes home from brunch the next afternoon, she feels like another piece of the shell around her soul has broken off. She thinks maybe, just maybe, she’s shed it all.

Week five

Emily jolts awake in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. She looks around her room frantically, confused about her surroundings. The dream had felt so real. It was like Scratch was standing right there. She felt the fear, she saw the coldness in his eyes. She swears she felt him stick a needle in her arm.

She shoves her shirt sleeves up her arms and studies them, looking for any sign that he has been there. She’s starting to panic, she feels her heart rate increase even more as she struggles to catch her breath. She wants to call Doctor Landry right now to talk this out. But she fights through it, realizing it was just a dream. No one was coming for her.

When she’s satisfied there are no marks, she closes her eyes and leans against the headboard, feeling the cold wood against her back. It grounds her. She takes several breaths, reminding herself that he was dead. He was dead and he was never coming back.

She knew this could happen, Doctor Landry told her it probably would. A relapse.

  
She hates how much Scratch took from her, from all of them. She hates that this is something she will be fighting for the rest of her life. But Emily Prentiss is nothing if not a fighter.

She gets up and goes into her home office and pulls out a notebook from her drawer. She writes down the nightmare as vividly and candidly as she can. It’s hard at first, but it helps in the long run. She writes and writes and writes until her hand cramps and she can hardly read her own words. She’s not sure if it’s because of her handwriting or the tears she’s allowed to fall onto the paper.

When she’s done, she flips through the pages. She looks at the last entry, it had been weeks ago. She knows that’s a good sign. She knows these dreams will always come back to her, but she’s ready to fight back.

She tucks the notebook back in the drawer, turns the desk lamp off, and goes back to bed. She falls asleep quickly and wakes in the morning from a dreamless sleep.

She won’t let him win, he’ll never win.

Week six

Her alarm goes off early, too early, in her opinion. She groans softly and turns it off. She sits up and rubs her eyes, still a bit dazed from sleep. She smiles to herself realizing that she had had yet another dreamless, peaceful sleep.

She showers and gets ready for the day quickly. It’s going to be the team’s first day back, and she wants to be there first to greet everyone. They’ve all hung out over the last 6 weeks, but she’s missed them working together as a team. Despite what happened last week, she feels ready. She’s ready to come back and rid the world of as many bad people as she can. For herself, for her team, for people she doesn’t know. She wouldn’t wish the turmoil she’s experienced the last six weeks on anybody.

Before she gets to the office, she stops and buys coffee and donuts for everyone. She hopes everyone feels as ready as she is to take on the next case.

Rather than go up to her office, she puts the coffee and donuts down on Walker’s desk. It’s empty now. His wife had come by and cleared it. She had wanted to be there to help her, to talk to her, but she couldn’t.

No one blames her, Monica doesn’t blame her for her husband’s death. She’s reached out several times. One day she had even gone by their house with food and had gotten to know his children. She told Monica to call if there was ever anything she or the kids needed.

Despite this, she blames herself. She knows JJ shares the guilt, because she had switched places in the SUV with him. She hopes JJ has worked through it.

As she expected, Rossi is the first one to enter the bullpen. She smiles and holds out a cup of coffee, and he accepts it gratefully, but not before he pulls her into a hug.

“How are you doing?” He asks.

Emily smiles. “I’m okay. How are you? Did you get some quality grandpa time in?”

“Don’t call me that. But yeah, I did. We had a great time.” Rossi says. Joy and her son spent a week staying with him, and Emily knew that did wonders for his morale.

“Show me pictures!” Emily says excitedly.

As they’re looking through photos, Reid and Garcia walk in together.

“Oh, hello angels!” Garcia says warmly as she hugs Rossi and Emily tightly. Reid and Emily hug and she smiles at him, seeing more color in his cheeks than she’s seen in months.

“Hi, Garcia. I brought coffee and donuts.” Emily says as she motions toward the goodies on the desk. “And I remembered your favorite, Reid.” She adds as he happily opens the box to take a donut.

  
Tara walks in next, looking refreshed and happy after her time off. She’d spent it with her brother and her dad, mending old family wounds and reconnecting. Emily can tell it was good for her.

JJ is next, greeting everyone excitedly and giving hugs and cheek kisses all around. She’s talking about her trip to New Orleans with Will and the boys when Luke finally rolls in with Matt.

Emily steps back and watches them all talking animatedly, happy to be back in their routines. She’s in no rush to break up the reunion, they won’t catch a case this week. Cruz has informed her that they’re off rotation until the next week, so this week will be all about paperwork and consults.

She’s so happy she accepted the position as unit chief. She’s never met a better group of people, and nothing could tear her away from them. This job may have broken her, Scratch may have damn near killed her, but as long as she had this room full of people, she knew they could heal from anything. She feels the shell around her soul melt completely, and she knows she's going to be okay.


End file.
